


Act Natural

by SunTheater



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: College Student Yeosang, M/M, Mentioned Park Seonghwa, Museum Night Guard Wooyoung, New York City, dumb boys having a good time, it be like that sometimes, yeosang is stressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunTheater/pseuds/SunTheater
Summary: Yeosang probably should have stretched before practically folding himself in half to hide under a bench. Even his hide-and-seek strategies usually aren’t this ambitious. His legs burn and his jacket’s right sleeve has been dangerously close to brushing an old wad of chewing gum for twenty minutes now. Distantly, he wonders if the museum is just going to keep its lights on all night, if he’s going to have to stay until morning to remain unbanned for the rest of his life. If he weren’t so nervous, he’d laugh at the thought. Biology-major-hopeful banned from natural history museum. It wouldn’t be the weirdest headline in the papers.~Risking getting banned from the American Museum of Natural History for a hundred dollar bet was shaping up to be the dumbest thing Yeosang's ever done. And it would have been, had he not met sunlight incarnate night guard Wooyoung.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 38
Kudos: 216





	Act Natural

**Author's Note:**

> This exists for two reasons.  
> 1\. I love ateez way too much to not write anything for them.  
> 2\. If I could, I would live in a natural history museum. Seriously. No hesitation.  
> I hope you like reading this as much as I liked writing it!

Yeosang probably should have stretched before practically folding himself in half to hide under a bench. Even his hide-and-seek strategies usually aren’t this ambitious. His legs burn and his jacket’s right sleeve has been dangerously close to brushing an old wad of chewing gum for twenty minutes now. Distantly, he wonders if the museum is just going to keep its lights on all night, if he’s going to have to stay until morning to remain unbanned for the rest of his life. If he weren’t so nervous, he’d laugh at the thought.  _ Biology-major-hopeful banned from natural history museum. _ It wouldn’t be the weirdest headline in the papers.

The silver lining of the lights still being on is his ability to use his phone without blowing his cover. Otherwise, how else would he get teased by San and Yunho or berated by Hongjoong?

_**San** _

_ I honestly can’t believe it _

_ We did it lads _

_ Mr. Too Cool To Have Fun doing crime _

_i' m not doing crime_

_pl ease don’t say that_

_**Yunho** _

_r emember u just have to get the photo tho_

_n ot stay all night_

_i'll even come get u when ur done_

_**Dad** _

_ I swear to god Yeosang if anyone finds you _

_ I’ll kill you _

_ $100 isn’t worth it _

_ Hongjoong i’ve eaten instant noodles _

_f or lunch and dinner for four days now_

_ $100 is worth it i assure you _

_**Dad** _

_ Not when the museum finds and bans you _

_ And the school finds out _

_ And denies your transfer _

His phone’s screen dims and he wonders whether he’s made the biggest mistake of his life thus far. Trying to bike through the city his first week here was undeniably bad and his first New York tinder date had been nearly catastrophic, but if Hongjoong is right about him being found out, this will take the cake.

The lights blink out suddenly and the effect is immediate, the room taking on a creepy air. Yeosang realizes that he’s essentially hidden himself away for a night with a room full of skeletons.  _ Shit. _ Even a nicotine-addicted night owl roommate would be easier to wind down around. The chewing gum seems closer to his sleeve each time he glances up at it. He’ll have to file tonight away in his long list of regrets, no matter the outcome.

Just as he finally feels his heartbeat level out, accepting his inevitable fall from grace in both the eyes of the all-seeing institution of NYU and of his parents’ God, he hears footsteps. Not heavy, but clear in the silence of night, closer each passing second. Maybe if he had Seonghwa here, he’d be able to treat him for a heart attack. Instead, he figures he’ll just die alone under a bench in a museum. Wonders if he has time to scribble a quick apology note for whichever guard ends up finding his body.

The footsteps stop near the  _ Apatosaurus _ . Whoever the feet belong to could glance over at any time and discover the dumbest student they’ve ever met hiding under a bench, knees aching, begging for his life. The guard is probably older and muscular and mean, not someone Yeosang could look in the eyes. He probably has tattoos, and not pretty ones like Yeosang wants, but scary ones that took one session of nine hundred hours to complete, and he probably didn’t even take a snack or cry or anything-

_**Yunho** _

_i_ _f_ _u want, i can come now_

_w_ _e_ _ can walk home _

_ this is obviously funny but i kinda feel bad _

The text lights up Yeosang’s screen, revealing his embarrassing Taeyong lockscreen (he’d been meaning to change it to something more subtle). He always assumed he would get into some sort of trouble for forgetting to turn his phone off, but had thought it would have happened in high school physics. Not like this. He scrambles to turn his phone face down and kill the light, but the sound of metal on the tile floor creates an entirely new problem. And this is it for him.

A flashlight beam scurries across the floor and comes to rest on his face. He can see the light through his eyelids, no matter how hard he scrunches his eyes. “Come out from under the bench for me, please.” The voice is high. Young. Not nearly as mad-sounding as expected.

He untangles himself from his origami position, taking special care to avoid contact with the gum, his enemy from the moment he chose this bench to crawl under. Dusts himself off, takes a deep breath just like how Hongjoong said his therapist taught him, and looks up to the guard. And holy shit.

His skin is flawless, seems to glow even in the darkness of the museum hall. His features are sharp but he still has a delicate air, and he doesn’t look nearly as tired as Yeosang expects night guards to look. Even if he weren’t paralyzed with mortal fear, Yeosang still wouldn’t be able to speak; he can barely maintain eye contact.

“Do you wanna explain what you were doing? Or is it better for me if I don’t know?”

“Uh.” His palms are sweating. “I don’t…”

“The museum’s been closed for an hour.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not an employee. So when the museum closes, you’re supposed to go home.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The guard crosses his arms over his chest, and his proportions are unreal. Distracting. “So why did you stay?” He still doesn’t seem mad enough.

Yeosang knows that there are a million things about the situation that already betray his lack of dignity, but somehow, explaining why he’s still at the museum seems too much. Some deep survival instinct won’t allow him to divulge his immense stupidity to the prettiest stranger he’s ever met, even though it apparently  _ will _ allow him to engage in the stupidity in the first place.

“I’m not gonna get an answer? You’ll have to come with me so I can escort you out.”

“It was a bet.”  _ What cruel betrayal. _

“It’s usually a bet,” the guard answers. Yeosang glances down to his nametag.  _ Wooyoung.  _ It’s light, like the sound of a bird’s wings in flight.  _ Of course his name is pretty.  _ When he looks back up, Wooyoung is smiling. Yeosang feels his lip twitch, a nervous tic, and he allows himself to feel thankful that Wooyoung didn’t end up being a scary giant. At least getting escorted out won’t be as harrowing as it could have been. “But usually it’s the Willamette.”

“The Willamette?”

“The big special meteorite. You must’ve seen it earlier today, unless you just showed up at the end to hide out?”

“Oh.” Yeosang can feel his ears burning. “No, I was here all day. I saw it.”

“People always wanna climb on it. It’s been a while, though, since someone’s actually tried. You’re the first stowaway we’ve had in months.”

“I wasn’t very good at it, I guess,” he tries, adds a nervous laugh onto the end. Maybe Wooyoung won’t report him to… to whoever would have to find out for him to get in trouble.

“Made it further than our last one. I think Rachel found him about ten minutes after the closing announcement.”

With each passing moment, Yeosang becomes increasingly aware of how Wooyoung hasn’t kicked him out yet. Hasn’t grabbed his arm and dragged him to the front, hasn’t written down his name for a ban, hasn’t even mentioned any sort of punishment since they started talking about the bet. But Yeosang’s greatest skill has always been self-sabotage. “Do I have to leave?”

Wooyoung smiles again (brighter than anything Yeosang can remember seeing before) and shifts his weight to his other leg. “You should.”

“Uh?”

“But I’ve been mind-numbingly bored here lately. The cameras have been down in this wing, so instead of getting to wander around the exhibits, I have to stay here all night.” He adds as an aside, “That’s the only reason you got so far, by the way. Had the cameras been up, the control room people would’ve had you out of here half an hour ago.”

“So… I don’t have to leave?”

“I’m still deciding.”

“Okay-”

“I’m not bad at my job. I take care of things. If anyone else knew you were here, you’d be gone. But nobody else knows right now, so if you want to stay for a little bit, I wouldn’t complain.” His voice drops lower at the end, still sweet like the melting sugar Yeosang saw at that candy shop on his obligatory touristy day trip when he first arrived in the city.

Yeosang is short-circuiting, and if he waits any longer to answer, Wooyoung is going to think he’s having a seizure. “Can I sit down?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers with another smile. His eyes crinkle at the corners. “What’s your name?”

“How do I know you’re not gonna write it down to ban me for life?”

“I  _ should _ do that. If I don’t, then that’s a favor.”

“My name’s Yeosang.”

Wooyoung sits down on the bench next to Yeosang and leans back against the barrier of the  _ T. rex _ exhibit. Yeosang tenses just looking up at it. “So, tell me about your bet.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Of course it’s stupid. Staying the night at the museum is stupid. I’m interested, though.” Wooyoung never sounds mean, even when he says something like that. Always sounds softly teasing.

“My friends told me they’d give me a hundred bucks if I took a selfie inside the  _ T. rex _ fossil exhibit.”

“ _ Inside? _ ”

“Well, yeah.” Yeosang rubs at the back of his neck and looks down at his jeans. There’s still a spot of red paint from when Hongjoong made them all go to an art class with him. “It would be kind of anticlimactic otherwise.”

“Okay, I see that.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I can’t let you do that, right?”

He had been trying not to get his hopes up. “Why not?” He wishes he didn’t sound so disappointed.

“If you or your friends post the picture, I lose my job. Immediately.”

“What if I promise I won’t?”

“We don’t really know each other well enough for me to trust that.” He’s still so  _ nice _ , even telling Yeosang something so frustrating.

“I guess not.” They sit quietly for a moment. Yeosang feels his skin prickling with discomfort; he can’t stand awkward silences. “You look younger than I thought you would be.”

Wooyoung laughs, and Yeosang once again recalls the candy shop. It smelled like happiness there, like being a little kid and never worrying about anything. Wooyoung reminds him of it. “Yeah, I’m the youngest one here.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“Me too.”

“Wait, let me guess. Columbia!”

“No way, I’m not smart enough for Columbia. And their campus feels mean.”

Wooyoung sits up and touches Yeosang’s knee, excited. Just for a second and then his hand is gone, but Yeosang’s heart skips. He wonders what Seonghwa would think of his irregular heartbeat tonight. “Columbia’s campus  _ does _ feel mean! I thought I was the only one who thought so!” Yeosang thinks he might be dying. “Okay, so not Columbia. Are you originally from the city?”

“No.”

“Okay, so then NYU.”

“Yeah,” Yeosang concedes. He knows he’s a stereotype, but whenever someone else lays it out so plainly for him to see, he’s still embarrassed. “What about you?”

“Not going to school right now,” Wooyoung answers. Yeosang doesn’t really  _ know _ him, but he seems embarrassed. At least Yeosang’s not the only one tonight. “I think I’ll apply soon. Maybe for next year.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t really have anything figured out.”

“Except this place.”

“Right,” Wooyoung says. “I know this place.”

“Why here? I don’t mean to pry, but why work here?” He hopes he’s not asking too much. Worries over making the night guard holding his museum patronage status hostage feel uncomfortable.

Wooyoung looks down at his clasped hands, and then to Yeosang. His eyes are pretty. “I figured my sleep schedule is already shitty and the money’s okay. And maybe the uniform would be sexy. Definitely could be sexier, though.” He waits for Yeosang to laugh, but Yeosang is too busy trying to breathe. Wishes he had some coffee, something to do with his mouth as an excuse for not answering on time or laughing when appropriate.

“You wear it well,” he answers, trying not to wince at his own delivery.

“Thank you. I like your jacket.”

“I almost got gum on it under the bench.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. I saved it, though.”  _ Jesus. _

“What do you do at NYU?”

Yeosang has to stop himself from laughing, frustration bubbling up at the mention of his school. “Right now, international business. But I hate it.” Wooyoung’s eyes turn soft with sympathy. “That’s actually why I came to the museum today. I wanted to look around and, like… well, it’s stupid.”

“What did you want to do?”

“I wanted to see how I felt. I want to transfer to biology, like ecology, you know? But my parents  _ really _ want me to study business. So I figured if I came here and just felt, I don’t know, like it ‘called to me’ or whatever-”

“Did it?”

Yeosang looks at Wooyoung. He’s so patient, so interested in what Yeosang has to say, who he is. It’s warm. Comfortable. “I think it did.”

“So you should do it. Life’s too short to not do what you love.”

“Yeah,” he breathes. He begins to feel himself slipping back into worry over silence when his phone lights up again. This time, he’s thankful.

_**San** _

_ Did you get in trouble? _

_ I’m sorry if you did _

_ This is probably my fault _

“Your friends?” Wooyoung asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Yeosang answers. “Let me just respond real quick.”

“Take your time. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, anyway.”

_ i just haven’t gotten it yet _

_ guards, you know? _

_d on’t worry_

_t ell yunho not to wait up_

“You’re not holding me hostage. I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you, too. Normally it’s just me and the exhibits, which isn’t too bad, but you’re a much better conversationalist.”

“So, you normally get to walk around other places? But you can’t right now because of the cameras…?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung starts, leaning forward to explain. He talks with his hands and his face, expressive in a way Yeosang’s always found intriguing in other people. “Because these cameras are bugging out, we have to have someone in this wing one hundred percent of the time. This is mainly my wing, so it’s my job. The others get to wander around, though.” He seems disappointed, lips pressed into a pout.

“Where do you normally go?”

Wooyoung moves closer still, now just inches away. Yeosang wills himself to stay focused, to stop worrying. “I like the Hall of Ocean Life. We’re supposed to always be on our feet and not just sightseeing, you know, we’re supposed to be checking and making sure everything is running smoothly. But when no one else is around, I lie down in that hall and just think.”

“Where?”

“Sometimes in the middle, right under the whale. Sometimes I go and lie next to the cases. I like the coral reef.” Wooyoung is  _ so close _ . Yeosang’s jacket is too warm. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

Wooyoung quirks his eyebrow. Yeosang remembers the crush he had on one of the baristas at his favorite Starbucks last year, how his friends told him his eyes got stupidly wide every time he talked to him. That must be it. He must have the dead fish eyes. “Hmm, maybe I’m imagining it.”

His mouth decides it’s been too long since he ruined something for himself. “Like a fish?”

“What?” Wooyoung laughs, surprised.

“My friends say my eyes get really wide when… hmm.”

“When what?”

Yeosang rubs at his neck again and glances up to the  _ T. rex _ . “You’ve lived here for a while, right? Like, you asked if I was from the city originally and I’m not, but you are, right?”

“Yeah. I was born here. Are you gonna answer my question?”

“No, that was the point of asking another.” He looks back to Wooyoung, and he seems happy. Entertained, at least.

“Are your friends worried about you?”

“Maybe. But I told them not to be.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll take that advice. I know that if my friend were still gone this late after accepting a stupid dare in New York City, I wouldn’t be worried at all.” Wooyoung pulls his leg up to rest his elbow on, rests his cheek on the heel of his hand. His hands look soft. His voice is quiet as he says, “You should go home, Yeosang.” Yeosang must be imagining the hint of disappointment woven through his words.

“How many other guards are here right now?”

“Huh?”

“Like, one for each wing, or one for each room?”

“Just three others right now. They wander, so I don’t know where they are. And the cameras are up everywhere else. So whatever you’re asking for, I can’t do it.”

_ The damn cameras. _ He keeps forgetting the cameras. “This floor is all cold and hard, though.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why that matters, but you’re right. And it’s kinda gross, too.”

“The floor in the Hall of Ocean Life is carpeted.”

“Oh, Yeosang,” Wooyoung says. His voice is high and sweet (melted sugar) again. “It’s fine if I don’t get to tonight. It’s just a little thing.”

“Wait! I have an idea.”

Wooyoung laughs. “Keep your voice down!” he hisses. “The other guards have ears.”

Yeosang removes his jacket and lays it out on the cleanest-looking part of the ground, figuring the jacket already had to weather the bench. It can survive anything now. He sweeps his arms in front of it, gesturing like a car salesman. “Here, makeshift carpet.”

“Yeosang-”

“Don’t tell me you’re not gonna lie on my jacket. You said you liked it.”

“Okay.” Wooyoung nods and raises his hands in mock surrender. He situates himself so his head rests on the thick collar of the jacket like a little pillow. Yeosang is still standing. “So, what’s next?”

“Just a second.” He pulls out his phone and opens Google, typing faster than he’s ever typed before. Wooyoung’s lying on the floor and he’s here standing like an idiot, frantically trying to find the stream-

“Am I just supposed to-”

“Okay,” Yeosang says, scrambling to lie next to Wooyoung, taking care to avoid touching him. Doesn’t know whether he would be able to handle it. He holds his phone out above both of their heads so they can look up and see it. “It’s this livestream that’s always going on at this aquarium. You can see, like, fish here, but you can switch cameras and see stuff like jellyfish if you want. I watch it to go to sleep sometimes. I know it’s not the same but-”

“Yeosang.”

“Yeah?”

“This is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has done for me in a while.”

“Oh,” he says. His ears are hot, probably vivid pink. Wooyoung’s not looking at the screen, he’s looking at Yeosang. His eyes are bright and his face is bathed in blue light from the coral reef stream. “You’re welcome.”

“Here, let me hold it.”

Yeosang passes the phone to Wooyoung, who holds it with just one arm, bringing the other to rest against Yeosang’s. The tips of his fingers graze Yeosang’s wrist. Wooyoung said he went to the hall to think, and Yeosang sincerely hopes that Wooyoung can find peace now to do so, because he knows he certainly can’t. Not with Wooyoung so close making his heart beat like this.

Yeosang can’t see his phone’s clock with the livestream up, but he imagines it’s much too late to still be out. But it’s been so long since someone drew him in like this, and he can see it too easily, him leaving and never seeing Wooyoung again. It makes his throat burn.  _ Scares him. _

“I think,” Wooyoung starts after what might have been five minutes or thirty, “that you should get your picture.”

“What?” Yeosang tears his eyes from the livestream, turning to Wooyoung so fast his neck hurts.

“Your picture for your bet. I think you should take it.”

He pulls away, just a bit. Just to see whether Wooyoung really means it. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he answers, pushing himself up off the floor. “I want to take it for you. Do you need help with the barrier?”

“I’m not two feet tall, I can get over the barrier.” He steps up to the bench and begins to lower himself into the exhibit with the least amount of grace possible, head swimming with Wooyoung and the task at hand.

“Wait!” Wooyoung says. Yeosang’s arms buckle, but he manages to fall to the bench side instead of the dinosaur side. Came dangerously close to getting the wind knocked out of him, and he’s not even mad. It’s Wooyoung; it’s funny.

“What?”

“Take off your shoes. How would I explain footprints next to the fossil?”

“Right,” he answers, leaning down to untie his shoes and throw them to the ground.

“Nice socks.” Yeosang looks down. Two Pusheens wearing pink party hats gaze back at him and he can hear Wooyoung smothering a squeaky laugh with the back of his hand. Then, “I wish I had some like those.”

“I’ll get you some,” he says, climbing over the barrier again, this time without his shoes. The faux rock the skeleton is positioned on is rough and uneven underfoot, entirely unpleasant.

“Don’t touch it.”

“I’m not gonna touch it. I don’t want you to lose your job, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung raises Yeosang’s phone, and then, “Taeyong. Nice.”

“ _ Jesus, _ please just take the photo,” he complains. Wooyoung smiles at him over the top of the phone, and Yeosang thinks he’s never felt anything better than the way his chest fills with warmth when he makes Wooyoung happy.

“Smile. How much money are you getting for this, again?”

“A hundred dollars,” he beams, and that’s it, the picture-perfect smile. Wooyoung looks down at the phone, wrinkles creasing the corners of his eyes. He wanders over to the barrier, looking up from the phone only when he’s reached the glass. Leaning over the information plaque, he locks eyes with Yeosang. His eyes are full of something, an idea. Yeosang feels the blush creeping across his cheeks.

“Can I kiss you?”

He nods and leans the extra few inches over the glass. Wooyoung’s lips are soft and warm; he’s gentle and smiley. Yeosang wishes the glass would disappear. Earlier tonight, he wanted nothing more than to die before Wooyoung ever found him, and now he just wants to touch him. Hold his hand, tug at his waist, anything. Everything.

“Wooyoung,” he murmurs, pulling away. “My feet hurt so bad.”

Wooyoung laughs and helps him up over the barrier, hands him his phone and jacket. Sits with him on the bench as he puts his shoes back on. “The picture is cute. Because I’m such a good photographer, obviously.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It’s getting late to still be here, Yeosang.”

“It’s not really that late.”

“But too late for  _ here _ .”

Yeosang looks down at his hands, reaches for one of Wooyoung’s, looks at the two of them intertwined. They look natural, like their hands were meant to hold each other. “Thanks for letting me take my picture.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Yeosang’s chest aches, different than the way his knees ached under the bench. Much deeper, in more of an emotions place than a medical-assistance-required place. “How do I get out without anyone seeing me?”

“There’s a door our contractors come in through not too far from here. I’ll walk you there.”

The walk is short and quiet, so as not to alert the other guards of Yeosang’s presence. The night air is much colder than it had been hours ago, and Yeosang is immensely grateful for his jacket for the second time that night. “Are you going to get home okay?” Wooyoung asks.

“Yeah, I’ll just take the train.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung answers, smiling. He doesn’t seem as disappointed about their parting as Yeosang is, and he tries not to let it get to him. He watches the door close, officially locking him out of the museum.  _ God, it’s cold. _

_ [img] _

_t omorrow you guys pay up_

_**San** _

_ Oh my god!!! _

_ Wait who the fuck took the pic _

_**Yunho** _

_y eosangie i’m so proud of u!!_

_i thought u were dead tho_

_s o that was Not Very Cool_

_i ’m so sorry_

_i t’s kind of a long story_

_a bout who took the pic_

_b ut i promise i’ll tell you tomorrow_

_**Dad** _

_ You’re so grounded _

_ But I’m proud of you too _

He tosses his jacket in the laundry hamper when he gets home and falls to his bed as dramatically as he can, tired, not quite believing the night he’s had. It’s easy to drift off to sleep, even with his roommate tapping away at the wall. The addiction tic is less annoying tonight. Yeosang understands now what it’s like to miss something you used to be able to live so easily without.

“I can’t believe you really did this. I keep looking at the picture,” San says over coffee the next morning. Yeosang’s old favorite barista is working. “You still have to tell me about who took it.”

“You owe me fifty bucks. So does Yunho. Don’t forget.”

“ _ Tell me _ , Yeosangie,” he whines. “You seem bummed this morning. Is it something about last night? If you tell me, I can make you feel better.”

“Yeah.” He pulls the photo up on his phone. Wishes Wooyoung was in it. “I’ll tell you in a second. I just wanna send this to my parents. They won’t know it was taken against the rules, they’ll just be excited I left my room.”

He opens his contacts to scroll through because he can’t remember the last time he texted them. If it weren’t for the coffee keeping him conscious bordering on wired, he would have missed it. A new contact.  _ Wooyoung. _

“Oh my god.”

“What?” San asks, nearly knocking his coffee over as he leans across the table.

“Wait, I have to send a message.”

_ i'm a hundred dollars richer now _

_ wanna get something to eat? _

He gets a response almost immediately. San threatens to pass out from a dire lack of attention.

_**Wooyoung** _

_ I’ll wake up in like three hours _

_ But then I want the first person I see to be you _

“ _ What _ has got you smiling like that, Yeosangie? Share with the class!”

“Hmm, the person who took the photo, I’m gonna tell you, okay? Strap in, it’s kind of a lot.” It’s a formality of course; San is always ready for a story. “His name is Wooyoung. And I think you’re gonna be seeing a lot of him from now on.”


End file.
